Reprise
by Artemis Thorne
Summary: Reprise (noun): A recurrence or resumption of an action. A fanfic of the fanfic Nostalgia. What happens after Akihito returns to Japan with Asami. Rated for suggestions of sex and language.


Disclaimer: I do not (unfortunately) own Viewfinder or the fanfiction Nostalgia. They belong to Yamane Ayano and the FF user Respicefinem08 respectively.

Author's Note: Okay. I started this after reading Nostalgia by Respicefinem08. I've tried to contact him/her concerning my writing a fanfiction of his/her fanfiction, but to no avail. If you know this user personally, please let me know so I can contact him/her. Also, I'm not quite sure I should continue this at all, but I'll leave this here anyway. Enjoy!

_I still remember the look on your face,  
Lit through the darkness at 1.58.  
The words that you whispered for just us to know,  
You told me you loved me, so why did you go away, go away?_

_I do recall now the smell of the rain,  
Fresh on the pavement, I ran off the plane.  
That July ninth, the beat of your heart,  
It jumps through your shirt, I can still feel your arms._

_But now I'll go sit on the floor there in your clothes,  
All that I know is I don't know  
How to be something you miss_

_Never thought we'd have a last kiss  
Never imagined we'd end like this  
Your name, forever the name on my lips_

_~ Last Kiss by Taylor Swift_

**Prologue: Remembrance**

Once, Gyles had entertained the idea of going to Japan. Had gone so far as to type in the letters of his name into the form that would reserve him a place on the next flight bound for Tokyo, the city from which his ex-lover came.

After he fully realised what he was doing, he had slammed the lid of his laptop shut with a trembling hand. He had wanted so much to pick up the slim MacBook and hurl it towards the far wall, not caring whether the expensive gadget shattered into a million pieces or not.

Once, Gyles Tennison had been sure that he had placed the memory of Takaba Akihito in a deep recess of his mind, never to be retrieved again.

Now, he knew that that was a delusion, and that he was desperately wrong about his own feelings.

No, he had not managed to keep Akihito from dominating his thoughts, even when he had been swamped with work from the firm. Even when he walked out of strange homes with barely a whisper, leaving an already half-forgotten tryst he was sure he didn't feel guilty about.

To him now, Takaba Akihito was a ghost; he was haunted by him.

But then again, wasn't he already a ghost when Gyles had met him, had held him and loved him?

But that wasn't true, he admitted to himself as he walked around the gallery that once housed his ex-lover's photographs. In many ways, Sei – No, his name's Akihito- was like the weather in London. Unpredictable, you never know when it's going to start raining. But when the Sun shines, it's bright enough to warm the coldest heart. Most of the time, when he first met the man, the undercurrents of Akihito's depression didn't surface, especially not while in Gyles' presence. But things weren't so black and white once night fell. Akihito was always plagued by the man he had left behind in Tokyo, but it was only when the moon held dominion over the earth that the demons revelled most.

_I cannot ask of you to forgive me. But forget me._

But he knew that it was impossible. Gyles heart ached at the notion that Akihito thought it conceivable that he could ever forget his enigma of a lover.

When Gyles stepped into the room that used to be his office, he could almost smell Akihito's scent lingering in the air, diffusing through the walls. This was the place where they met the most, after their own homes. Gyles could still remember when they had made love on his chair behind the table, in the last week of Akihito's time here. How he had foolishly mentioned his lover's hometown and brought on the despair that came in waves whenever Akihito was reminded of his past. How he had hopefully made up for it afterwards as he had filled Akihito with his love, physically and emotionally. How Gyles had been exulted that his lover had come to him so willingly that afternoon.

But of course it wasn't just about the sex for Gyles. When he was Akihito, he felt like he could stand on top of the world, accomplish every dream that he'd ever had, and most importantly, have his lover be right there beside him, to be loved and protected by him. Because while Akihito was a dancing flame, he was prone to be extinguished by the slightest wisp of air.

He all but collapsed into the chair now, overcome by the pure emotion that he felt for Akihito. Even if he had lied to him about his true identity. Even if he had held himself back for a man who had probably scorned him, to have chased him away so. Even if he had thrown himself back into the refuge of that man's arms without a second thought. Though Akihito had all but pleaded for Gyles to forget him, and brought him a parting gift, Gyles yearned for him so, so painfully.

God, he wanted him back.

_But at what cost?_

* * *

Once, Akihito had dreamt that he was back in London, in Gyles' apartment, in Gyles' embrace while they both slept.

From what Akihito could tell from the dreamscape, they had both obviously just fallen asleep after a long night of pure passion, their breathing still slightly ragged, their skin still aflame. He could almost feel Gyles' arms wrapped around him, their legs tangled together, Gyles' hot breath on the back of his neck.

Could almost feel Gyles' heart beating against him.

The morning after that night, Akihito had found dried tears streaking down his face, and blushed furiously into the mirror when he remembered why. It wasn't that he missed Gyles' (It was impossible, he told himself; he loved Asami, right?), but the dream had invoked a longing in him, a craving that only existed in the dream. He told himself as much throughout the day.

Most of the time, Akihito wanted to forget those days when he was abroad, away from Asami. But there was no way he could omit such a huge and impactful part of his life. His travels had changed him: physically though he'd dyed his hair again with its old chestnut shade, emotionally though he's back where he was before he left, that is, in Asami's grasp. He was different now, even if he still got himself into dangerous situations he really should have had no way of involving himself in. It was just an inexplicable part of him that trouble found him wherever he went. It was, after all, how he'd come to be Asami's lover.

Now that he was back in Tokyo and living with, he knew that there should be no more ghosts of the past lingering in him. He is content, he supposed. Though he didn't have his old job back (he didn't really want it back, in any case), he could swallow his enough of his pride to let Asami feed and clothe him in between exhibitions and auctions of his photographs. Akihito's renown in Europe had not followed him home for more reasons than one but he was slowly building it back up here, where inspiration could seemingly be found around every corner. Besides, this 'job' gave him the freedom of movement, of time, that he could be with Asami whenever he pleased, much to the thinly veiled irritation of some of his underlings.

But Akihito found himself in his darkroom anyway; processing some pictures from a roll of film he had tried to convince himself to burn many times now. It had taken a lot of time and effort to convince Asami to let him set up a darkroom in his lover's luxurious penthouse, and though some of his tactics could be considered… unrefined, they had not been in vain.

An hour or so later, Akihito held in his hands the only photograph he had of Gyles, and proceeded to cry so hard and loud in the room he shared with Asami that his whole body shook. And the whole time he did that, the only sentiment that was strong enough to hold his attention was this: _Why do I feel this way?_

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing Akihito was oblivious about at that moment.

That night when Akihito had dreamt of his English lover, he had tossed and turned so much while still in slumber that it woke Asami. Concerned, he had tried to wake his dear Akihito. But rather than waking up, Akihito had done something that chilled Asami's blood to the point of freezing and paralysed him until long after Akihito quietened. "Gy-Gyles…" _He had called out _his _name in a moan that Asami had thought reserved for his benefit only._ The next day, Asami's subordinates did not have much trouble guessing the cause of their boss' incessant scowling, nor the reason for his cruelly admonishing even the slightest of mistakes.

Long before, Asami had set up a surveillance system in his own home. It wasn't just to keep out any foolish thieves or traitors; it could also function as means to observe Akihito while Asami was not home. And it wasn't just so Asami could make sure his young lover did not run away again; it held other, more pleasurable uses as well.

But now he saw on the screen something that wrenched at the roots of his heart. Something that he swore he would never again see. He saw Akihito crying because of heartache for a man. A man whose name was _not_ Asami Ryuuichi, at that.

More than once Asami had debated whether or not to kill this Gyles Tennison. Though he was hardly in anyone's way, it enraged him to think that this man had once held Akihito the way he held him now. So much he wanted to just get rid of this man who had once been where Asami had been, where no one else would ever go. But after countless nights of arguing the pros and cons of it to himself, he knew that it was pointless. Besides, how would Akihito feel, what would he do, when he found out that Asami had killed someone whom he once held dear?

Even so, Asami knew he would have absolute pleasure in murdering the Englishman.

_But at what cost?_


End file.
